Sweet creation, source of grace divine
For all that ails us, offer consolation!
Incarnate for our human exaltation,
To salve our tears, a transcendental shrine.
And if the herb and blossom—nature's spice—
Intoxicate our bosom with their charm,
enchant us—Please, thou needst not take alarm—
If human wings seem bent toward paradise.
For was't not thou bestowed imagination
Upon our thought, a crowning gift so rare—
A glass to see the world's reflected Stuff?
Our hearts behold thy world with trepidation;
In awe can we but clasp our hands in prayer;
We feel thy smile, and know it is Enough.
- translation by Josh Mitteldorf